


Adventures in Bar-Hopping

by thejerseyturnpike



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Bar fights, Drinking, F/M, bar shenanigans, Éponine and Bahorel and violence make for a hilarious combination, Éponine/Bahorel/Feuilly brot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejerseyturnpike/pseuds/thejerseyturnpike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know what we never do?” Eponine said as she sat and slung her legs over the arm of the chair.</p><p>“Go out just the three of us?” Bahorel plopped down on the couch next to Feuilly, smirking at Eponine.</p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p>“There’s probably a reason for that, since the last time the three of us went out I ended up naked on a boat. I still do not know who’s boat it was," Feuilly mused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in Bar-Hopping

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this beautiful piece of art (http://daylighthound.tumblr.com/post/47581171493) by tumblr user daylighthound. Feuilly looks almost exactly like my friend Andrew so I decided to make him act like him too, at least when it comes to hooking up with women.

“You know what we never do?” Eponine said as she sat and slung her legs over the arm of the chair.

“Go out just the three of us?” Bahorel plopped down on the couch next to Feuilly, smirking at Eponine.

“Exactly,” she tipped her coke can at him before taking a drink.

“There’s probably a reason for that, since the last time the three of us went out I ended up naked on a boat. I still do not know who’s boat it was,” Feuilly mused, and Bahorel laughed a loud park and gave his roommate a playful shove.

“Come on Feuilly,” Eponine nudged him with her foot, “Everyone else is working or with their significant other. Us single people deserve to go out and have some fun.”

Feuilly smiled, “fine. But no boats,” he pointed at Bahorel who laughed and slung his arm around him.

-

The three reconvened that night at Eponine’s apartment, and after a few shots to kick off the night, they made their way down to the strip of bars a few blocks away. They decided to start the night at the shady bar that doubled as a dance club. Famous for their Thursday quarter beer nights, it was frequented by a mix of other students like them and older locals. It was Bahorel’s favorite, and whenever the group went out he always suggested it. Greeting the bartenders, who all knew Bahorel by name, the three grabbed a seat at the bar. After a few minutes of chatter the bartender brought a beer over and set it down in front of Feuilly.

“But we haven’t ordered yet,” Feuilly protested, sure she had made a mistake.

“It’s from her,” the bartender gestured down the bar to the woman who had been regarding Feuilly with a level of interest. She was older, but had made a definite effort to maintain her youth; she had the appearance of the type of women Bahorel referred to as a cougar. She had bleach blonde hair and winked at Feuilly and toasted him with her wine glass when he looked at her. Feuilly blushed and raised the beer, tipping it in her direction.

“We’ve barely sat down and my boy has women clamoring over him,” Bahorel nudged Feuilly with his elbow, and he laughed, “you go get you some.”

Feuilly laughed again, embarrassed.

“You know I can’t talk to women,” he protested.

“Have you not been watching me work?” Bahorel criticized.

“Yeah, and I’m not so sure you can talk to women either, with as seldom as they end up falling for your lines.”

“Hey!” Bahorel faked a hurt expression while Eponine laughed, “I am incredibly charming. I bring plenty of women home.”

“It’s probably your body rather than your words,” Eponine leaned in front of him to talk to Feuilly, “just go thank her for the drink and ask her what she’s doing tonight. See what happens.”

She gave him a slight shove, and Feuilly stumbled out of his seat and down the bar to the blonde.

-

Bahorel and Eponine chatted over a few more drinks, surreptitiously watching Feuilly’s progress from their peripherals. Bahorel was pleased to find that he seemed to be doing quite well; the woman was laughing at most of the things he said, and by the time they ordered second drinks she was touching his leg. By the end of the third drink she had dragged him off to the dance floor.

“Well I’ll be damned. Good for him,” Eponine smiled, raising her beer to her lips.

“Good for who?” came a voice to her right. She turned; next to her sat a guy several years her senior. He was clearly one of those try-to-hard-to-get-women types; his button down was stretched too tight over his chest and his hair was gelled to the point where Eponine thought it would be unpleasant to touch.

“I’m Monty,” he smiled, teeth too white, “can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, angling her body away from him.

“Aw, you sure, hun? I’m great to talk to. Just one drink,” he said, putting his hand on her knee.

“I said no,” she spat, swatting his hand away, “and don’t call me hun.”

“You know, I like it when women play hard to get,” he leaned in.

“She’s not playing hard to get, she wants you to leave her the hell alone,” Bahorel put his arm around Eponine, “and she’s here with me. So back off,” Bahorel spat.

Monty looked at Bahorel, his large arm flexing around Eponine, and he backed down.

“Sorry man, didn’t know,” he said, walking away.

“Prick,” Bahorel spat at his back.

Eponine whipped around, glaring at Bahorel.

“I could have handled that, you know. I didn’t need you to rescue me.”

“I know. You’re a little hell-raiser. But I hated the way he was talking to you. Guys like that don’t take no, so I wanted to step in.”

Eponine made a face, then smiled.

“Next time, you just let me kick his ass,” she poked him in the ribs.

“I’ll even help you clean his blood out of your clothes.”

She smiled and Bahorel pulled her against him, giving her a one-armed hug.

“Where did our ginger jailbait go? That cougar looked like she wanted to eat him alive,” Bahorel asked, looking around the bar.

“Looks like she’s trying to,” Eponine gestured to the dance floor.

Feuilly was entwined with the blonde woman who had taken an interest in him, his hands on her ass and her mouth on his neck. She had pulled the collar of his green button-down aside and was very determinedly attempting to mark him.

“That’s my boy,” Bahorel laughed before turning to Eponine, “do you want to dance?”

She gave him an odd look, cocking one eyebrow at him.

“I will be a total gentleman, I swear,” he held up his hands, showing his sincerity, “I will keep my hands above the waist at all times.”

She eyed him, smirking, before pointing accusatorally, “you try to do to me what that woman is doing to Feuilly and I’ll have your head.”

“Scouts honor,” Bahorel winked.

Eponine smiled and grabbed his hand, pulling him behind her onto the dance floor. They danced together for a few songs before Bahorel pulled away.

“I’m gonna grab another drink. You want one?”

“Yes please,” Eponine smiled and continued to dance. Bahorel was scarcely gone for thirty seconds when Eponine was approached by a boy she recognized from her intro to econ class. He had seemed nice enough when she was in class with him, although quiet, and she said yes. Bahorel caught her eye from the bar, where he waited for their drinks. He nodded and mouthed “nice,” winking at her. She winked back.

Feuilly’s blonde was still working on his neck. She had slipped her hands down his chest and appeared to be groping him through his pants. Then Eponine, still dancing with the econ boy, noticed a man who looked to be in his early forties pushing his way through the dancing crowd. Eponine stopped dancing when she saw him making a beeline towards Feuilly. He grabbed Feuilly by the shoulder and spun him around, punching him square in the nose. Feuilly dropped and the man stood over him yelling, “that’s my wife you fuck!”

“Hey!” he heard a voice bark from behind him, and turned right as Eponine was punching him in the jaw. The man reacted quickly, backhanding her, muttering “bitch,” under his breath as he turned back to Feuilly. The man’s friends had drug him off the ground and were holding the redhead back for the man to hit him again. Bahorel had just had time to make it to their side of the bar when Eponine leaped on the back of the man with a screech, yanking at his hair. 

Bahorel punched one of the friends that was holding Feuilly back and immediately began brawling with him. Bahorel was a flurry of blows, but was more of an offensive attacker than a defensive one, and received several blows to the face in the process.

Eponine, however, who had lost her advantage of surprise, was dropped on the ground as he flipped her off his back. Rough hands dragged her off the ground, and she found herself being held by Monty, the man who had been pestering her before. He seemed to be friends with man who assaulted Feuilly, which surprised Eponine none.

“So we meet again,” he lilted, “how ‘bout that drink?”

Eponine responded by bringing her knee roughly up into the man’s groin. Monty dropped to the ground in pain, and just had time to see bar security stepping between Feuilly and the man who had punched him when she felt large arms wrap around her waist and lift her into the air. She began kicking her legs back at her faceless assailant when he responded in a deep voice, “Security! Miss, calm down!”

Eponine twisted again and then ceased her kicking, falling limp in the security officer’s arms. When she had calmed down he set her back on the ground and put a large hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, outside,” he pushed her roughly out of the bar, her friends and the men they had been fighting pushed out by other security guards.  
The police had already been called, and once outside, the three, as well as the other four men were handcuffed and knelt down on the ground.

Eponine noted with pleasure that they came out better in the fight; while Bahorel’s face was rather mussed up, the other man he had been fighting with looked like hell. The man who attacked Feuilly had a bruise blooming from where Eponine had punched him, and Monty looked to be in significant pain.

Bahorel spat out a mouthful of blood, “hell of a night, if I say so.”

“I’m so never going out with you two again,” Feuilly laughed.

“At least you got some, I got hit on by some creep,” Eponine remarked.

“And kicked his ass,” Bahorel smirked at her.

“Hell yeah I did.”

It was then that a police officer walked over.

“So Mandy here,” he pointed with a pen at the blonde woman, says that it was her husband and his friends had started the fight, and you two were just defending your friend,” he pointed at Bahorel and Eponine. The two of them nodded. “If that’s the case, you three are free to go once we get statements from you. The bar’s not pressing charges on you guys. Someone will be along in a minute to unhandcuff you.”

“Thank you officer,” Feuilly remarked; the man nodded and walked away.

“We leave you guys alone for one night,” a familiar voice sighed.

“Combeferre!” The three of them chorused.

“What are you doing here?” Eponine asked.

“This street is the quickest route between where I work and my apartment,” they noted that Combeferre was indeed wearing the uniform from the shop he worked in, “what the hell did you three do?”

“It wasn’t us,” Bahorel retorted, “Feuilly got jumped for making out with some guys wife.”

“Are charges being pressed against you?”

“Nope, they’re free to go,” another police officer walked over, jingling a set of keys, “we just need their statements,” she leaned down and started to unlock Feuilly’s handcuffs.

“Hey, wait, before you unhandcuff us,” Bahorel began, and the officer stood back upright, “can our friend take a picture of us?”

Combeferre and the police officer shared a look and sighed.

“Sure,” she said, walking away.

“Okay, you three, smile,” Combeferre said, pulling his phone out to take a picture.

The three smiled at the camera, Bahorel grinned showing teeth inside a bloody mouth. Combeferre snapped the picture and sighed once more, “you’re all idiots,” he said as the police officer walked back over and began to unhandcuff them.

“But we’re your idiots,” Eponine smiled at him and he couldn’t help but agree.


End file.
